


The Blood of the Prince

by AllThingsEnd



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Merlin - Freeform, Upir, Upyr, sorta merthur - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 19,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThingsEnd/pseuds/AllThingsEnd
Summary: The Crystal Cave episode, when Arthur takes a crossbow bolt between the shoulder blades? Same deal, Arthur and Merlin are being chased by armed bandits, but instead of Arthur getting injured, it is Merlin. And because I can, I threw the existence of upyr (vampires) into the mix.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, please. And I am going to update this pretty quickly, so yeah. Thanks.

Their legs were aching and their breath was short. Merlin was in much worse a state than Arthur, and was slowly falling behind, the gap between he and the hoard of bandits in pursuit growing ever smaller. They dodged trees and pushed through brush, throwing glances back whenever they dared. As they leapt over a bolder, an arrow whizzed by Arthur’s shoulder, and the prince let out a panicked laugh and urged himself to run faster.  
“So I may have been wrong about them not following us into the Valley of Fallen Kings!”  
Merlin did not have enough breath in his lungs to respond, but managed to glare at the back of Arthur’s head for a moment.  
An arrow thudded into a tree right beside Merlin as he passed it, but he did not have time to even register his luck before sudden, searing pain enveloped his body and mind. It felt as though he was being ripped in half, roughly being hacked in two with a hot, jagged knife. He stumbled, and fell to his knees, head hanging, eyes unable to focus on anything.  
“Merlin!” He heard Arthur’s voice, but it was as though it came from a great distance. Before Arthur could make toward Merlin, however, the first of the oncoming bandits came level with his servant.  
Arthur flitted through his mind, but when he tried to get back up to help him, the pain seemed to increase tenfold and he fell on to his hands and knees. And now Arthur could see the handle of the hatchet that was buried deep into Merlin’s back. The nearest vagabond followed Arthur’s eyes with a sinful smile, then he reached down and grabbed one of Merlin’s shoulders with his massive hand, and yanked him up into a kneeling position. Merlin’s eyes were open, but out of focus, and he swayed, his head limply falling to the side. He would have fallen, if the man had released him. Arthur set his jaw and put his hand on the hilt of his sword.  
“You sure that’s a good idea, mate?” the bandit asked.  
“Let him go.”  
“Certainly,” the bandit drawled with a mock bow, and then he kicked Merlin forward and yanked the ax from his back with a sickening noise and spray of blood, and the young man fell like a doll made of cloth. He landed on his stomach, arms askew, face turned away from Arthur, and he did not move.  
Arthur’s heart seemed to seize. He opened his mouth for a moment, but could think of no words to say, and so he drew his sword and charged.  
The unruly fighting style of the bandits was no match for Arthur’s rage-backed skill. He cut down about seven of the dozen-or-so bandits before the rest of them decided their valued their lives more than Arthur’s death, and they fled.  
Arthur plunged his sword into the dirt and ran to Merlin, dropping to his knees.  
“Merlin,” he whispered, but he received no answer. Merlin’s shirt was drenched in blood, with a tear down where the ax had been. Arthur looked away from the ragged, bloodied flesh beneath. He moved to Merlin’s other side to see his face, and then wished he had not. Dark blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.  
“That can’t be good,” Arthur mumbled, realizing how little he knew about healing anything at all. “Uh… are you breathing?” He asked stupidly, blinked a few times, then leaned down and put his ear near Merlin’s mouth. After a painful moment of holding his breath, he sighed and rocked back on to his heels, muttering, “Oh thank goodness.” Merlin was alive.  
Arthur stood and retrieved his sword, then pulled the shirt of the nearest body. He used it and his belt to tie Merlin a make-shirt tourniquet around his middle. When he rolled his servant over, Merlin’s arms hung limply and his head rolled to the side. If it were not for the blood pulsing out of his body, he would have appeared completely lifeless. Arthur looked sadly down upon Merlin for a moment more, pushing dark thoughts from his mind, before he turned his eyes upward and squinted at the sun. It was just past midday; the sun was slightly to the West. Camelot was to the North.  
“Okay, Merlin,” Arthur crouched and pulled Merlin into a sitting position, then lifted him up in his arms, grunting as he stood. Merlin was draped limply over his arms, one arm hanging toward the ground. “My god, Merlin, you need to eat more.” His servant was surprisingly easy to lift.  
They walked for hours, until Arthur laid Merlin upon a mossy bed and sat in the shade of a large tree to catch his breath. He felt confident that they were now near enough to Camelot to be safe from any more rogues, but promised himself that he would keep watch nonetheless.  
But he and Merlin had been in the forest for six days, two of which had been without any supplies, and only the small game Arthur could hunt barehanded as sustenance. And as the cool afternoon breeze dappled shade over his face, Arthur slipped into a light sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright so please let me know what you think so I know if this is worth continuing or not.

Arthur dreamt he rode a horse through a placid field, wind blowing comfortably through his thin shirt. The ground gradually began to grow steeper and steeper, until his horse was slowly struggling through each step, and he himself was bent low over the saddle. But the horse slipped, and he and the beast were both sent tumbling down the way they had come, until Arthur’s face cracked against a rock.  
He awoke with a jolt, his cheek stinging, and a moment later he knew why. He had been slapped hard across the face, and the man who did so was crouching over his outstretched legs.  
“Who the hell are you?!” Arthur reached for his sword, but it was not there. A woman in the group behind his attacker waved it mockingly through the air.  
“Doesn’t matter,” the man stood and pulled Arthur to his feet, holding him against the tree. “Just know that you are Prince Arthur, and you and that shiny shirt will catch us quite a few pounds.” The man grabbed a handful of Arthur’s chainmail. “See, we heard you were travelling with an injured man, ‘else we wouldn’t be so close to your castle. Still, I’m a bit disappointed in how easy this was. Speaking of the injured man – Ben! Check if that one’s alive.”  
“Don’t hurt him,” Arthur struggled against the man’s grip for a moment in vain as another man stepped up to Merlin and bent low over him. His face was pale.  
“Don’t think we’re gonna have to. Ben?”  
“Well I guess he is technically alive… but he isn’t gonna be for long. Most of his blood’s on the outside, I reckon.”  
“He wearing anything we can sell?”  
“You kidding? Altogether he’s not worth half a pound. Dead weight. Best just leave him here.”  
“You can’t!” Arthur hand instinctively jumped to his belt, but of course his sword was not there. “Please, take me, just help him.”  
“He’s beyond help, friend. My sympathies. Nigel! Jane! He’s yours.”  
Two people, a young man and a woman, stepped out of the crowd and went over to Merlin. With her foot the women rolled Merlin on to his stomach. His bandage was soaked dark red, nearly black.  
“What are they doing?” Arthur demanded.  
“We’re not your typical rogues. See, we’re not just poor and hungry, but thanks to your father we are on the run because apparently, we’re freaks. Well, they’re freaks, and the rest of us are harboring freaks.”  
Arthur looked up at Nigel and Jane, who were glaring at him with hatred.  
“You’re sorcerers.”  
“Not quite,” Jane replied.  
“Then why would you-?”  
“Sorcerers are not the only ones your father persecutes. We just happen to be far less common.”  
“I don’t understand.  
“Poor boy has probably never crossed one of us before,” Nigel mocked, “Least ways not an active one.”  
“I love the naïve ones,” Jane stepped over Merlin and walked toward Arthur, who glared back at her defiantly. The man holding him against the tree did not lessen his grip, but allowed Jane to get right up to him. “So easy to scare.” She put the back of her hand on his cheek and turned his head to the side, exposing his neck.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Nothing. You won’t sell if I did.”  
Arthur watched from the corner of his eyes as the woman pulled back her lips into a snarl, and her upper gums seemed to expand at the sides before they split, and two pointed white teeth pierced through, bringing with them small drops of blood. Arthur’s eyes went wide and he tried in vain to squirm away from her.  
“What are you doing?!”  
Jane’s mouth twitched, and the teeth retracted back into the gums, and the fleshy muscle grew back together as though time had been sped up. Then she stepped back with a smirk. Arthur tried to keep his face calm, but his fear showed nonetheless.  
“What are you?” He asked after a moment.  
“That’s quite rude.” Jane moved back toward Merlin and Nigel, who spoke next.  
“Ever heard of the upyr?”  
“What?”  
“Guess not. So we’ll go with the derogatory term. Vampire.”  
“Vampire? From children’s stories?”  
“And under their beds.” Nigel waved his arms and bowed mockingly.  
“You’re cannibals!”  
“Not technically. We don’t eat people. No need. You could say we drink them.” Arthur stared back at him, comprehending the horror of what he was hearing. Nigel took a few steps toward the prince. “Their blood, you simpleton! It’s better than you think.” Nigel moved closer still, eyeing Arthur’s neck. “Damn near irresistible.”  
“That is vile.”  
“That is survival.”


	3. Chapter 3

Behind the backs of the vagabonds, a twig snapped. The man holding Arthur against the tree whipped his head around to look, and Arthur took the opportunity to punch him across the face.  
The forest behind the bandits exploded, and the Knights of Camelot came galloping out from between the trees, swords swinging and flashing. The bandits drew weapons and they collided in a tight skirmish. Percival and Gawain leapt off their horses as the others stayed on their steeds. Arthur kicked the woman holding his sword in the back and pulled his blade from her hand, and instantly joined the fray. They were winning already, driving the rogues back with each strike. But all else left Arthur’s mind when he saw Jane latch her teeth on to Merlin’s pale neck.  
“NO!” He charged toward them, but before he could get close the wind was knocked out of him and he hit the ground hard, his sword skidding away. He looked up to find Nigel standing over him, tall and dark against the sky.  
“Not today, boy!”  
As Nigel descended, Arthur bucked his legs, kicking him square in the chest. It hardly slowed the man down. Nigel dropped down on to Arthur, kneeling over his stomach, on knee holding him down, and he punched the young prince in the face with unbelievable strength. Lights popped before his eyes. Nigel grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up, and did not let go as he punched him again and again, until the skin around his eyes split and blood filled his mouth. Arthur’s hands clawed at Nigel’s forearm and at his face, but the man was relentless. He could feel the bruise already swelling, and his own blood flooded into his eyes. With one last, powerful blow, Nigel released Arthur’s hair and his head slammed into the dirt. His vision was blurred and his ears were ringing, and he was barely holding on to his consciousness. He slowly became aware of Nigel hissing something into his ear, but then all he heard was his own voice, screaming in anguish, simultaneously within his head and as though from far away. Hot, searing pain radiated from his neck and consumed his entire being, and then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

“…if you don’t mind. Please. Gwen is preoccupied and I better not leave his side.”  
“Gaius, please-“  
“Your highness, you will be the first to know if anything changes.”  
“Very well.”  
The words swam into Arthur’s mind as if through thick syrup, and their meaning did not register with him. He went to open his eyes, but the moment his lids parted his head was pierced with pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut and cried out, though it came out hoarse and low.  
“Arthur! My god,”  
Slower this time, Arthur opened his eyes ever so slightly.  
“Gaius,” he whispered. “What-“  
“No, no don’t try to sit. Stay down. It’s okay. How are you feeling?”  
“My head…”  
“Yes, you have quite the concussion.”  
“My sword…”  
“We have it, it is safe.”  
“My… Merlin!” Arthur’s eyes shot open and he again tried to sit, but the moment he got upright he leaned over the side of the bed and vomited. He spat the rest from his mouth and slowly looked up at Gaius. “I’m sorry.”  
“Not to worry, my lord.”  
“Where is Merlin? He-“  
“He is here. Arthur, you need to calm down. You are not well.”  
Arthur looked around him. He was in Gaius’ chambers, on one of his sick beds. It was early morning. As he took in his surroundings, he saw another body on the other bed, a sheet pulled up to their chin, their face turned away. The bed was pushed away up against the back wall.  
“Merlin?”  
“Arthur, please-“  
“Is that Merlin?” Arthur swung his legs off the bed and stood, but he fell back onto the thin mattress a moment later. “Why can’t I stand? I have had concussions before. Why can’t I think straight?”  
“Well, my lord, it is a bit more than just a concussion. You broke your nose, but it seems it will grow back straight.”  
“Good. That’s all?”  
“Not quite, my lord.”  
“Tell me after I see Merlin.”  
“I advise against that, my lord,” Gaius stepped in front of Arthur, blocking him from the other bed. Arthur’s heart seemed to seize within his chest.  
“Why”  
“Arthur,”  
“Is he alive”  
“Arthur,”  
“Is Merlin alive?” He nearly shouted it, demanding to know. Gaius sighed.  
“Yes. But… he… He will not last much longer.”  
Arthur set his jaw and blinked back the stinging in his eyes. He squared his shoulders and stepped around Gaius. As he got closer to the bed against the wall, he walked into the stench of old blood and infection. Tentatively, he reached the side of the bed and looked down at Merlin.  
He was pale and still as death.  
Gaius came up to Arthur’s side.  
“What happened, Arthur?”  
“We, um… We were being chased. By bandits. And Merlin… Merlin was hit. It was an ax. And he wouldn’t… he…”  
“It broke one of his lungs. We patched his back up best we could, but his surviving lung is filling with blood. He hasn’t woken up.”  
“How long’s it been?”  
“Your knights brought you two back the day before yesterday. Arthur, I need to talk to you.”  
“Arthur?”  
Arthur and Gaius turned. The king stood in the doorway.  
“Father,”  
“I thought I’d lost you!”  
Gaius busied himself with tending to Merlin, or at least pretending to, to allow the two royals to reunite.


	5. Chapter 5

“That would explain it,”  
Arthur sat quietly across from Gaius, waiting for more of an explanation. But the physician sat in silent contemplation.  
“Gaius.”  
“You said he bit your neck?”  
“Far as I can tell. I was barely conscious. But from what I saw and felt, yeah. But I have no bite mark on my neck, so…”  
“And they said vampire?”  
“Yes, and something else. Oop-pier or something.”  
“Upyr.”  
“Yes, exactly. Gaius, vampires cannot be real.”  
“I did not think they were, either. But Arthur… it seems that they are indeed real. And I fear they may have turned you.”  
Arthur sat in stunned silence, eyes wide.  
“Turned me?”  
Gaius pulled a book from the shelf behind him and put it on the table between them. He opened it to a marked page and turned the book around so Arthur could see. Below the garishly written word ‘upyr’ was a drawing of a man with fanged teeth, blood dripping from his mouth. Below him was depicted another man, throat ripped open.  
“That. Their teeth were just like that.” Arthur whispered.  
“And they bit you.”  
“And Merlin. One of them bit Merlin.”  
Gaius stood and walked to Merlin’s bed.  
“Merlin has a bite mark on his neck. You do not. Do you know anything about the traits of the upyr? Or how they make more of their own kind?”  
“Gaius, I thought they were just stories until I almost got eaten by one.”  
Gaius sighed.  
“Upyrs extend their species by creating more, not through procreation, but more as in passing on their disease. They have venom that they inject into victims that they bite. If they want to. Their either… well, drink them, or change them.”  
“Wait… that they bite… Gaius, are you saying that they changed me? Am I… Am I one of them now? Am I a vampire?”  
Gaius hung his head.  
“Arthur, I think they changed you and tried to consume Merlin, before your knights showed up.”  
“What?”  
“Arthur, you need to stay calm about this. I will research them until I find a cure.”  
“Gaius, I’m meant to be king next, I can’t be a… a monster from a children’s story!”  
“We will find a way to turn you back.”  
“And until then? Am I going to want to… eat people?”  
“You must not, whatever you do. And you must promise not to tell anyone outside of this room.”  
“I’m not going to eat people! Oh my god I am illegal! I might as well be a sorcerer! A cannibalistic sorcerer! I’m illegal twice over!”  
“Arthur, please. How do you feel?”  
“What? Dizzy… Every torch I passed in the hallways hurt my eyes. And, um, I think I can hear a lot better? I think I can hear people’s hearts beating.”  
“Their blood. You can hear their blood. You need to avoid people, as much as you can, until I find a way to bring you back. Lie low. You can stay here, I will tell your father you are ill-“  
“Gaius, I am the prince!”  
“If you do not do this, you will end up a murderer for the rest of your life. And from what I can tell, upyr do not die of natural causes. Unless they are killed – and in all my life I have never heard of a way to kill them – then they will go on living forever. You will not age, and each day you will be more and more compelled to kill the people you love.”  
Arthur stood up and paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists.  
“Arthur, I will research this until I find the answer.”  
“And what about Merlin? He can’t die, if he’s one too. So he’ll be fine. He’ll wake up, like I did.”  
“Arthur-”  
“And then you’ll cure us both and things will be back to normal.”  
“Merlin was not turned. He is human. You know I love Merlin but there is nothing we can do for him. Only keep him comfortable.”  
“That’s absurd, Gaius. How would you know?”  
“The upyr have regenerative powers. Your bite mark is gone. Merlin’s neck– and his back, for that matter – are still injured.”  
“Why would they turn me and just kill him?”  
“Well, they need to pass on their disease, but they also need to eat. And when your knights showed up they seem to have had enough brains among them to know that was not a fight they could win. So when they realized they wouldn’t be able to sell you, like you said they wanted to, and if they wanted to damage the kingdom – and I would not be surprised if they did, seeing as your father has been hunting and killing their kind – turning you would be a very effective way to do that.”  
Arthur licked his lips, then covered his mouth with his hand, and then began to cry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be appreciated !

Gaius was sleeping in the room above his workroom, where Merlin usually slept, to give Arthur the main room to himself. Sort of himself. Basically, seeing as Merlin was in no condition to make conversation.  
The thought of any sort of food repulsed him, and once his headache recovered he was not tired in the least. No eating, no sleeping, no leaving these quarters and no guests… he would have been bored out of his mind if it were not for his fear. He and Gaius had spent the day looking through hundreds of books, most of which did not even mention the upyr at all. The ones that did simply advised to ‘avoid these creatures at all costs’ and gave nothing in the way of a remedy. Gaius had even returned from the library with a stack of forbidden books, and the only additional information they offered was that there were only two ways to kill them: completely drain them of every drop of blood, and behead them with a sword that had been soaked in the blood of a dead upyr.  
“That is impossible, to drain all the blood out of somebody! Every last drop? And this sword business. So we need a dead one to kill one, but the trouble is we cannot kill them in the first place!”  
“Gaius, but we are looking for a cure, not a way to kill me.”  
“Of course, sire. My apologies. It is just… bizarre.”  
When their eyes were too tired to read any more, Gaius would tend to Merlin, which involved reshaping his pillows and changing his bandage every few hours, to try to keep the infection from getting any worse.  
Arthur had tentatively suggested the use of sorcery, and then with more and more enthusiasm as he talked himself into believing that it would work, and that it was the only way. But Gaius had said that Merlin was far too injured for even the most powerful of sorcerers to save him, let alone one who had not practiced in many years. No one could regrow a lung, or heal so deep a wound. Arthur let it go.  
Gaius had finally turned in for the night just a few hours before dawn. Arthur, grateful to no longer have to listen to his pulse, aimlessly wandered around the room, peering at dusty vials with labels in perfect handwriting, flipping through books written in ancient languages, and nearly throwing up when he over-enthusiastically smelled a flower that turned out to be semi-poisonous.  
At length Arthur pulled a chair up beside Merlin’s bed. His face was hot, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and cheeks. Arthur dipped a cloth into the bucket of water beside his bed and dabbed it gently across Merlin’s forehead.  
“You should wake up now,” Arthur’s voice was quiet, and low. Of course, the only response he received was the dripping as he wrung the cloth out over the bucket again. “Please, Merlin.” But Merlin lay quite still, his features slack. Arthur set the cloth down and tentatively lifted the sheet, peeking under it at Merlin’s chest covered only by the bandage that wrapped around his middle. It took Arthur a few moments of holding his breath to be able to see the rise and fall of Merlin’s chest, for it was so subtle a motion that it may as well not have existed. The prince took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried not to think about the impending loss of his friend. Merlin had to live. Merlin always lived. Besides who would be around to polish his armor? But even as this thought ran through his mind, in the same tone in which he would have said it to Merlin, he subconsciously corrected himself.  
Who would be around to keep him company?  
To make him laugh?  
To encourage him when his own future overwhelmed him?  
His father did his best, and Gaius was kind, and his knights were loyal. But Merlin was different.  
“Merlin, remember when we first met?” Arthur felt a little ridiculous, talking to a man that could not hear him. And yet the silence was unbearable. “You stuck up for some kid that you did not even know. And so we turned on you. I could have killed you, Merlin. In fact, I think I was trying to. And I am still not sure what threw me off that day. But thank god because… Well anyway, I may have tried to kill you once. But now I need you to stay alive. I need you to wake up and grin stupidly at me and ask me if you had given me a fright, and I’ll say no of course not, I always knew you’d wake up. You’re far too stubborn to not wake up. And then you’ll do that thing where you smile and look at me and your eyes tell me you know better. And then I’ll say okay maybe I was a little worried and I really am glad to have you back. And…”  
Arthur’s voice trailed off.  
He and Merlin remained silent until Gaius came down the steps hours later.


	7. Chapter 7

“Did you not sleep, my lord?”  
“No.”  
“Are you tired at all?”  
“No.”  
“Interesting. You don’t mind if I write that down, do you? This is a rare opportunity. And of course the more we know, the closer we’ll be to finding a cure.”  
“Go ahead.”  
Gaius scribbled down a few lines on a loose piece of parchment, then shuffled over to Arthur and Merlin.  
“Any change?”  
“No.”  
Gaius looked up from Merlin to Arthur. His shoulders were slack, his back arched, as if all the hope had left him, as though he had deflated. He had not thought the prince would be so affected by Merlin’s predicament, judging from the things Merlin said to him over dinner some nights. But then, he had noticed how the two behaved around each other. The momentary eye contact during feasts, while Arthur sat at the head of the table and Merlin stood in the corner with a pitcher. The way Arthur would call Merlin’s name specifically, instead of for any nearby servant. The way Merlin worked hard at making sure Arthur was dressed immaculately each day, and that his armor always shone the brightest at tournaments. These, among other things that were usually not to be found between a prince and his manservant. Gaius sighed, and moved toward the table in the center of the room.  
“He’s not going to wake up, is he? I’m not going to be able to say goodbye to him, am I?”  
Gaius closed his eyes for a moment.  
“My lord, I am going in to the town today.”  
“What about Merlin?” Arthur stood up suddenly.  
“There is still a citadel and a town full of people that I am responsible for. We cannot allow people to get suspicious.” Arthur stepped forward, ready to interrupt, but Gaius silenced him by raising his hand up between them. “And I am going to the bookbindery, to see if perhaps they have books the castle library might not. And I will send word by means of a trusted friend of mine to the other nearby towns.”  
“Is that wise?”  
“Nobody will suspect a thing. It’ll just be crazy old Gaius, going off on his crazy research tangents.” He tried a smile, but dropped it when Arthur did not smile back.  
“Alright. And I suppose I will have to stay in here?”  
“Yes, my lord.”  
“And what if somebody comes looking for you? Or for me?”  
“Tell them not to enter. Tell them you are contagious, and so is Merlin.”  
“What? They don’t know Merlin is… is dying? What about Gwen… and Gwain… They care for him, too…”  
“All in due time, my lord. We will have to cure you first. We cannot have people coming and going while you are… well, infected.”  
“But they’re going to have to… to say goodbye. I’ll hide up in Merlin’s room, and-“  
“My lord, no. We cannot have you near people.”  
“I am near you. And Merlin.”  
“Yes, and think about how loudly you can hear our blood. Think about how that is the only thing you are hungry for, and think about how you have been talking to my neck this whole time and not my eyes.”  
Arthur blinked and looked into Gaius’ eyes.  
“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized. Okay. Okay. Go and find a cure. Please.”  
Once again Arthur was alone with Merlin.  
He returned to walking pointlessly around the room and busying himself in similarly useless tasks just to pass the time. He was practicing attacks and blocks with a long reed as a sword when there was a knock at the door.  
“Gaius?”  
It was Gwen.  
“Uh, Gaius is out.”  
“Arthur!” The door started to open. Arthur panicked, and rushed at it, slamming his shoulder into it to keep it shut. “Oh! Is the door stuck?”  
“Um… yes. That’s why Gaius left. To find something to fix the door. And, well, his other physician things.”  
“Are you alright?”  
“’Course I am. Just… ill.” He faked a cough, and then winced at just how fake it sounded.  
“…Right. Alright. Well when Gaius gets back and sets you free, will you tell him I am looking for him?’  
“Yes. Yes of course, Gwen. Have a good day.”  
Gwen paused for a moment, then replied “Have a good day” in a way that almost sounded more like a question than a statement.  
Arthur listened to her quieting footsteps, then sighed and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.  
Their conversation had lasted less than a minute and yet the sound of her pulsing blood had almost drowned out her words entirely.  
Concern turned to curiosity, then right back to concern.  
Why was Merlin’s heartbeat not driving him insane?  
Slowly, he pulled himself up to his feet and walked toward Merlin as quietly as he could, listening carefully all the while.  
Merlin cannot be dead.  
Merlin cannot be dead.  
Except he heard no heartbeat,  
That is, not until he was leaning over Merlin’s bed, holding his breath, head bent down almost to Merlin’s chest, and a very subtle, very faint, very slow beating reached his ears.  
Arthur listened with his eyes closed for as long as he could hold his breath, then he straightened and exhaled with relief.  
“My god, Merlin, you scared me for a second th-“  
But before Arthur could finish his sentence, Merlin responded. But not with words, not even by opening his eyes. He began to seize, his entire body tensing and quaking. Arthur jumped back, then began shouting for Gaius’ name, then for the guards, for anyone, anyone to come help. But Gaius must have cleared the hall, scaring everyone away from the prince’s imaginary contagion, for nobody came to Arthur’s aid.  
“Merlin, no, Merlin, listen to me!” Arthur put his hands on Merlin’s thrashing shoulders, but then let him go, utterly unsure of what to do. “Merlin, you’ll be okay. Merlin!” The sound of Arthur’s own heartbeat, panicked, was now filling his ears, and was all he could hear until Merlin began choking, and his seizing lessened but was replaced by blood jumping from his lips as he coughed in his slumber. Merlin’s blood splattered on to Arthur’s shirt as the prince knelt beside the bed and did his best to roll Merlin on to his side, so that he did not drown on his blood. “Merlin, you’re scaring me. Merlin come on. Come on Merlin” and then the blood stopped coming from his mouth, but so too did air stop flowing through his one good lung, and Arthur watched in horror as Merlin’s eyes flew open, red and wide, and his eyebrows knit together in pain and fear and confusion, and he was gagging on his lack of air, dying before Arthur’s eyes.  
“Somebody please, help!” Arthur shouted, to no avail. He suddenly leapt away from the bed and ran to Gaius’ desk, and he frantically grabbed bottle after bottle, scanning the labels for he knew not what. With a shout of frustration, he abandoned this useless task and ran back to Merlin, whose eyes were glazing and his attempts at drawing breath was becoming less profound. “Merlin, don’t you dare!”  
Merlin was dying. He was dying. Because he was human. Dying. Mortal. Unlike Arthur. Upyr. Venom. Unable to die. Venom. Bite.  
Before he knew what was happening, Arthur threw himself over Merlin and sank his teeth into the young servant’s neck. He had one hand on the bed beside Merlin and one against the wall above him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he bit down harder into Merlin’s flesh, and he tasted blood, and then he tasted something altogether new, and somehow he knew to release Merlin. He pushed himself away, stumbling back, head swimming. He pulled in a shaky breath, and his vision was blurred and spinning but he saw Merlin, still as a corpse, neck soaked in fresh blood, eyes open and still, and he felt blood drop from his chin and he watched it fall and hit the floor between his feet, and then the world was yanked from beneath him and he fell, and knew no more.


	8. Chapter 8

It is odd, the way in which time passes. No matter what we call it, no matter how we break it up, no matter what we name the small periods of time, it always passes the same. An hour is an hour whether we call it an hour or not. And four days will be four days no matter what we call it, and it will always be a very long time to be unconscious.  
He had no sense of where he was – nor when nor what he was, for that matter – when he awoke. There was light, and then there was sound, and then movement, and the light above him was blacked out, and he felt pressure on his face, and his chest, and then the light and color pulled together and stitched themselves into an image.  
A young man, pale, with golden hair and a smile that radiated relief and concern and ineffable joy. He was handsome, and he was speaking, and laughing, or perhaps crying, it was hard to tell. The young man put his hands on either side of his own face, flushed with emotion, and he said more words that ever so slowly reached the mind of the man on the bed.  
Merlin awoke fully.  
“Merlin, dear god, you’re awake, you’re alive!”  
Merlin went to speak, but nothing came out save a few specks of blood.  
“No, don’t say anything. Stay down. Don’t worry, don’t say anything. You’re in Gaius’ chambers, he’s been taking care of us. We are okay.”  
Memory came back to Merlin.  
“Arthur,” he croaked, and Arthur’s grin broadened still.  
“Merlin, I thought I’d lost you.”  
Merlin closed his eyes and smiled weakly.  
“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He shifted, and winced. “Okay nevermind not easy. I feel too much like hell for that to have been easy. What happened?”  
Arthur’s smile faltered.  
“We were attacked by bandits. You got hit. But its okay, Gaius patched you up.”  
Something was off with Arthur.  
“Arthur, there’s something you’re not telling me.”  
“Merlin, you’ve been out cold for four days, can’t I be glad you’re alive before you go about stressing me out again?”  
“Four days?”  
“Yes, four days. You’re rather dramatic, you know. Weren’t even hurt that bad. Just being lazy, I presume.” Arthur folded his arms across his chest and looked away, well, dramatically, teasing Merin, who grinned.  
“Alright, fine, be glad I’m alive. I scared you, didn’t I?”  
“No of course not. I knew you’d wake up. You’re far too-“ Arthur stopped short, realizing just how right he had been. He had foreseen almost this exact exchange.  
“Arthur? I’m far too what?”  
All pretense of joking left Arthur’s face. His arms fell to his sides and he looked Merlin in the eyes with a very serious expression.  
“Arthur?” Merlin’s smile faded.  
“You’re far too important to me, Merlin.”  
They shared a smile for a moment, then both glanced away awkwardly.  
“Thank you.”  
“’Course.”  
“So, uh, where is Gaius?”  
“Out finding a cure.”  
“A cure for what?”  
“What?” Damn.  
“A cure for what?”  
“Uh, you know, just to make sure you’re not sick anymore. Do you… Do you feel sick?”  
Just then Merlin realized how he felt.  
“I feel awful.” He covered his eyes with a hand. “Why does the light hurt? And what is that sound? Stop knocking,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Arthur. Arthur closed his eyes and hung his head, hands on his hips. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, and his panic that had driven his action had ebbed, he was filled with a sour dread akin to regret. But, no. Merlin would otherwise be dead. He saved his life.  
But now he was infected.  
But there would be a cure. Both of them would be cured. Neither had fed, they would both just stay here, and Gaius would cure them. It would be okay.  
The door opened. Arthur turned, and Merlin sat up and twisted around to see.  
“Merlin?” Gaius rushed into the room as fast as he could, and nearly shoved Arthur to the ground to get to Merlin’s bed. “My dear boy!” They embraced, Gaius nearly in tears. Then suddenly he pulled back, and he ran his hand up and down Merlin’s back. He brought his hand before him, before his eyes, and looked at it for a moment.  
“Gaius?”  
“That did not hurt you? At all?”  
“What, rubbing my back?” Merlin cracked a half smile, but dropped it when Gaius’ face remained knotted with concern. He turned abruptly on Arthur, who took a step back with a start.  
“What have you done?”  
“What” “What” Arthur and Merlin asked at the same time. Gaius addressed Arthur, pointing behind him at Merlin while doing so.  
“This young man was dying. What did you do?”  
“Dying? Gaius, I’m right here! I am also fine!”  
“Arthur, tell me what you did.”  
“Gaius-“  
“Arthur, tell me.”  
“What is going on?”  
“Gaius, he was dying-“ Arthur was panicking.  
“Arthur tell me you did not-“  
“I could not let that happen!”  
“What is going on??” Merlin nearly hollered it.  
Five minutes later, Merlin was propped up on pillows with a cup of water in his hands, and Arthur and Gaius had pulled up chairs and were facing him. Gaius was making a show of avoiding Arthur’s eyes.  
“Alright. Arthur and I, we were lost and alone, and then we were running from bandits. Then I woke up here.”  
“You remember nothing in between?”  
“No, I can’t. And Arthur said it was four days. Please tell me what happened. Arthur?”  
Arthur licked his lips and hung his head for a moment.  
“You were hurt, Merlin. Very badly. You were dying. And before I could get you home, before the knights found us… well, we were overtaken by another group. But these ones were different. They infected us.”  
“They infected you, Arthur.” Gaius cut in sharply.  
“Infected? With what?”  
“I thought it was a myth. So much so that I never even really thought about it at all! But then I was bitten-“  
“Bitten?”  
“Merlin, do you know of vampires?”  
Merlin’s eyes flicked to Gaius.  
“You can’t be serious.” He tried a hopeful smile, but it faded instantly. “You’re serious.”  
“Very serious. I’m sorry, Merlin.” The lack of any joke in Gaius’ voice drew from Merlin any lingering hope that this was a trick. He looked back to Arthur.  
“They bit you? Infected you? Does that mean… that you’re a vampire now?” He looked to Gaius. “What does that mean? That he’ll want to feed on blood? That his wounds will heal? That’s the lore.” He kept glancing between the prince and the physician, forcing himself to be hopeful. “That’s not so bad. I’ll just make sure your meat is undercooked from now on.”  
“Merlin, I am afraid there is more to it than that.” Gaius said it more to the floor than to Merlin. “Vampires do not die, they do not age, and they crave human blood. Nothing else will suit them.”  
“But Arthur is strong, he can be different! You said this was an infection? So it can be cured! We’ll purge the infection from his body, and he’ll be back to normal.”  
“Merlin-“  
“And until then we’ll tell people he’s ill, which is not entirely a lie, so he can hide in here and we can research it-“  
“Merlin-“  
“Who is knocking so loudly?”  
Arthur and Gaius glanced at each other.  
“Do either of you hear that?” Merlin was hearing Gaius’ and Arthur’s heartbeats, without realizing it.  
“Merlin, we have been researching since Arthur awoke, and so far I have not found a cure. And… well, I am afraid there is more.  
“Of course there is more.”  
“You were turned, too.”  
There was silence for a moment as Merlin gaped at Gaius. Arthur stood up and moved away from them, head hung, back to them, hands on his hips.  
“I was bitten?”  
“I am sorry, my boy. You are hearing our heartbeats.”  
Merlin blinked a few times, and swallowed.  
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll just use the cure on both of us.”  
“I had no choice.” Arthur said abruptly, loudly, turning back to them. His face conveyed his pain and pleading.  
“You certainly did have a choice, Arthur.”  
“He was dying!”  
“And this is better?”  
“Hang on, why do you keep saying that? I was dying?” Merlin cut in. Arthur walked up to him and sat back down.  
“I panicked. You were dying. You got hit, an axe was deep in your back from the bandits. One of your lungs was gone, you were out, you were bleeding out, and then you started to choke and you were dying.”  
“What?”  
“So I bit you. Because I knew you could not die if you were infected. So I bit you. I turned you. I’m so sorry. But I had to. I could not lose you.”  
“You… what?”  
“I am sorry, Merlin.”  
“But… we can cure this. It’ll be alright. Right, Gaius?”  
“Well, I do think I might have found something today, from an old friend in a village over.”  
“See?” Merlin looked reassuringly at Arthur. “No harm done.”  
“Not to you, at least. And that is only if the cure works. But Arthur… The cure will not work on new upyr who have fed.”  
“Well, good thing neither of us have fed.”  
“Infecting counts as feeding.”  
Silence. Arthur’s heart jumped in his chest.  
“But, no, I did not drink-“  
“Did you taste blood?”  
Arthur closed his eyes and put his face in his hands. “Yes. But I did not drink any.”  
“It does not matter. Arthur, you saved Merlin’s life, and I will forever be grateful for that. But you have doomed yourself. A human’s blood has touched your lips while the infection was in your system. No cure will work on you now. I am sorry.”  
None of them dared speak. None of them dared even draw breath.  
Arthur was a once and future upyr.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes us up to where I have written to so far. So from here on out, the story is as of yet unplanned.

The next few days were chaotic, in the most discrete sort of way possible. Gaius went about his normal duties, Merlin went around the town and citadel helping Gaius out as usual, and doing other servant duties like polishing Arthur’s armor and scrubbing the floors, though this was merely for show. For the prince himself was confined to Merlin’s chambers, rarely even allowed to go into Gaius’ larger workroom, especially not if there were other patients in there. Merlin was the only one who’s presence he could stand, for the blood of the infected did not bother other upyrs, as did the blood of humans. So when Merlin was not working or acting as though he was working, he was keeping Arthur company. Their conversations were as they usually were, with Arthur talking for the most of it, oblivious to or ignoring Merlin’s occasional comment, though sometimes they would get more in-depth. They were both absolutely terrified, of course, for it had been just over three weeks since Merlin had awoken, and their combined research efforts had revealed nothing in the way of a valid cure. The one that had reached Gaius from a town over had turned out to a reiteration of how to kill an upyr.  
Merlin and Gaius had conveyed to the king and court that Arthur had fallen ill with something Gaius had never seen before, so although he was stable, he needed to be alone, to prevent it spreading throughout the kingdom. This explained Arthur’s absence and isolation, as well as why Gaius was bringing all manner of ridiculous books into his quarters from all corners of Camelot. After the initial panic, Gaius had decided that maybe an upyr that has fed could indeed be cured, though even as he said it, all three of them heard the lack of hope in his voice. Still, they all kept up the pretense.  
On this particular day, Gaius had left for one of the outlying towns who had reported unusual sores on the feet of all of the young ones in their village. He left them with a note of hope, for he had not yet searched this town for books or information. Arthur was sitting on Merlin’s bed, and Merlin on the floor leaning against the wall, as rain beat the walls and stray drops flew into the room between Merlin’s old shutters.  
“Can you even imagine me married?” Arthur was fretting about his future as king, he and Merlin both doing their best to ignore the fact that thing may now be drastically different. “Sharing a bed, sharing every meal…”  
“Yes, you are rather bad at sharing.”  
“I am a very generous prince, and I plan to be even more so as a king.”  
“Right. No, I just meant you’re bad at sharing on an individual level. Like last week when you had a whole chicken and you wouldn’t give me any.”  
“You never asked,”  
“Because I knew you’d say no.”  
“That doesn’t count!” Arthur playfully threw a pillow from the bed at Merlin, who failed to catch it, but picked it up and slipped it between his lower back and the wall.  
“Whatever you say, my lord,” he teased.  
Merlin had brought down some of the soft pillows and blankets from Arthur’s bed, and they were ridiculously oversized compared to Merlin’s small bed, which Arthur could not help but comment on. But Merlin knew that the young prince was holding back complaining, for he knew Merlin was sleeping on the floor over just a sheet, and he felt very much responsible for what had happened to them. Merlin shoot the thought from his head.  
“How does that work, anyway? Would your wife bring her own servant, or would I be working for both of you, then?”  
“Well, Merlin, you can’t very well be her personal servant, seeing as her servant would be helping her dress every day.”  
“Right. … Pity.”  
“Merlin!”  
“I was joking!” He laughed as he failed to catch another pillow.  
“Well, at least I won’t be polishing any more armor. Yours and the knights are enough. Unless she’ll be a knight, too.”  
“A female knight?”  
“It’s been known to happen. Besides, I don’t see you falling in love with a woman that just sits and embroiders all day.”  
Arthur sighed, and swung his legs up on to the bed and lay down, one arm tucked under his head.  
“I don’t see myself falling in love with a woman at all. But it’s not about falling in love. It is my duty. My marriage will solidify an alliance, or close up a treaty, or something of that matter.”  
Merlin watched Arthur carefully as the prince starred at the ceiling.  
“Do you not want to get married?” He asked gingerly.  
“It’s not about what I want.”  
“But if it was. If you weren’t the prince.”  
Arthur thought about it for a second.  
“I think, if I were not the prince, I’d marry Guinevere.”  
“Gwen is wonderful.”  
“She understands, too. When she sees me, she does not make me nervous, like other people do. Well, not nervous. I like being around her, and I suppose… I just see her being a casual wife, and not caring about all the fuss that other women might. The kissing and the dates and the sharing of the bed…”  
“Arthur.”  
“What?”  
“You do realize you just described a friend. Somebody you spend time with but don’t kiss or go on dates with or a share a bed with.”  
Arthur brought his arm out from under his head and crossed them over his chest, still starring at the ceiling.  
“Well, whatever. Forgive me if I haven’t devoted my life to thinking about marriage. I am the prince, which means I am busy.”  
“I never said-”  
Suddenly Arthur started to laugh, and then draped his arm dramatically over his eyes as the laughing subsided into a smile.  
“What was that about?” Merlin asked, unable to keep from smiling just from the joy on Arthur’s face.  
“We share a bed.”  
“What??”  
“This is your bed. And I’m in it. You’re sharing it with me.”  
Merlin slowly grinned, and laughed.  
“That’s a bit different from how you and your husband will be sharing it, though, I assume.”  
“Husband?” Arthur’s smile dropped, but his arm stayed over his eyes.  
“What? No, I meant wife. Wife. You would be the husband. And she, your wife, would be… your wife. Your wife.”  
Merlin sat perfectly still, waiting for Arthur call him an idiot, or worse.  
“What about you?” Arthur sat up and faced Merlin, who started.  
“What about me?”  
“Have you thought about getting married?”  
“Well, no. I just think about my job. Helping you and Gaius.”  
“Oh, come on. There must be some serving girls or girls from the town that have drawn your eye.”  
“Honestly, there aren’t any.”  
“That’s boring, Merlin.”  
“I’m sorry!” Merlin laughed. And so did Arthur. Thank god.  
“Merlin!” The new voice belonged to another servant, calling from behind the closed door to the hallway, on the other side of the workroom.  
“Well, I best be off.” Merlin stood and walked to the bed, returning the pillows and straightening the bed as best he could with Arthur sitting on it. “I’ll be back tonight.”  
And he left his room, closing the door behind him, crossed the workroom, and pushed Arthur from his mind as he prepared for working.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know, my dudes. Thanks.

Midday found Merlin helping the knights train in the field. By that, of course, I mean Merlin was holding a shield as the knights beat on him. Gwaine and Percival were sparring as Lancelot worked on attacking Merlin. The other knights were further away, training as they saw fit.  
“What I still don’t understand-” Lancelot swung, and Merlin ducked behind the shield “-is why-” he clashed against the shield again “-we can’t even see him.”  
“Because he is contagious-” swing, duck, clang.  
“If Gaius has never seen this disease before – then how – do you know?” Lancelot stepped back and dropped his sword, catching his breath.  
“Better safe than sorry, I suppose.”  
“But you spend time with him, and you’re just fine. Or are you just not thinking that if you get sick, then come train with us, we could all get sick?”  
“No, it’s just… Er… I’ve got a particularly strong immune system.”  
Before Lancelot could respond to this ridiculous retort, Gwaine and Percival walked up to them.  
“How’s the prince?” Percival asked.  
“He’s good. He’s sick. Um, contagious.”  
“Merlin, you alright?” Gwaine asked, leaning against his sword.  
“’Course I am. Just… tired. Training. It’s not easy.” Merlin flashed a smile.  
“…Right.”  
“Alright, well, when you and your particularly strong immune system see Arthur next,” Lancelot chided, “tell him we’d all like to see him as soon as we can.”  
“’Course I am. I mean, will. Of course I will… He wants to see all of you as soon as he can, too.”  
When at last Merlin escaped the questions and finished his work, he returned to find that Arthur had pulled some of the blankets off his bed and made a make-shift bed over the sheet Merlin had been sleeping on. Arthur was reading on the real bed when Merlin knocked and walked in.  
“What’s this?”  
“I figured you’d like a blanket.”  
“Thank you.” Merlin dropped down on to the blankets, and smiled as he pulled them around him. They were the finest blankets he’d ever worn.  
“How are the knights?”  
“Far too curious for comfort.”  
“Good. They’re smart men.”  
“Arthur, why do you think Gaius is letting me go out and about? Why not say you and I are both contagious? Or if I can go out, why can’t you?”  
Arthur put down his reading.  
“I asked him about that when you were gone yesterday, before he left. He said you are not driven mad by heartbeats because you are a third-generation upyr.”  
“What?”  
“The one that turned me was born an upyr, so first generation. Making me second generation. And I, a second generation, turned you. So I suppose you are less upyr than I am.”  
“So you can really hear people’s heartbeats that badly?”  
“It is maddening. I know when people are in the hall, all the way on the other side of the work room, because I can hear their blood.”  
“That’s odd.” Merlin played with a stray thread on his shirt. “I can hear their heartbeats when I’m in the same room, but it is manageable. Louder, when the knights were sparring. It made me feel…”  
“Hungry.” Arthur offered. And Merlin knew he was right, though the thought was very disconcerting. That the sound of blood could make a man hunger for it…  
“I haven’t eaten at all since I awoke. You?”  
Arthur shook his head.  
“Merlin? Do you believe Gaius will find a cure? Do you think there is hope for me?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“What about sorcery?”  
Merlin leaned back against the wall.  
“Gaius still knows many names from his time of magic. But so far, they have been unable to help. There is no known way for magic to return an upyr to a man.”  
“But has he tried? Or just researched?”  
“Tried? You mean experimented? We are the only two upyr he would have access to, and experiments – if we even had anything at all to go off of – could be very dangerous.”  
“But, Merlin, not doing anything is also very dangerous! We haven’t eaten in weeks, and Gaius himself said that we will need to feed soon, or else we will go mad and lose our minds and attack against our own will!”  
“I know! But we don’t even have anything to base an experiment on!”  
Arthur stood up and began pacing the small room.  
“Draining an upyr of blood will kill him, correct?”  
“All of it, yes.”  
“Then what if we try blood-letting. Drain a good deal of our blood, and see if the infection weakens, and perhaps then we can cure it with ordinary medicine, or low-level magic.”  
“Bleeding us might kill us before we could get the infection down enough, if that is even possible. Besides, when did you become so keen to use magic?”  
“Since I might leave my kingdom with no heir! I cannot let that happen.”  
Merlin stood up and grabbed Arthur by the shoulders, stopping him.  
“Arthur, you need to stay calm. This is not helping.”  
“And calmly sitting here for weeks is?”  
“No, but-“  
“Merlin, wake up! We need to do something!”  
“We are, but-“  
“It’s not enough!” Arthur shoved Merlin back, sending him stumbling into the wall. His back hit the wood, and his head snapped up, bouncing painfully off the wall. Merlin caught his balance, then looked up at Arthur with concern. Arthur closed his eyes and turned around. “I’m sorry.”  
“It’s the infection. It’s getting to you.”  
“Let’s just… let’s go to bed.”  
They had found that they still needed to sleep, just far less than normal humans. A few hours every couple of nights. It made for a lot of dark, quiet hours, as well as some that resulted in some curious talk between the two young men. On this night, after a few hours of silence, they picked up their conversation about marriage about where they had left it off that morning. They were both lying down on their respective beds, looking up to the ceiling.  
“Merlin?” Arthur began, tentative.  
“Yes?”  
“Have you ever happened across two husbands?”  
“Two husbands? You mean total?”  
“Yes. No! No, I mean, instead of a husband and a wife, it is two men that are married.”  
“Oh.” Merlin tried not to glance toward the bed. “Yes. Well, sort of.”  
“Sort of?”  
“They were not married. Because… well, I don’t think they could get married. The kingdom has never addressed marriage as anything but a man and a woman, and I fear far too many people would be wary of or opposed to it being anything different. But they were together, in a way.”  
“And they were happy?”  
“Of course. … Why?”  
“No reason. I was just… wondering. Because of what you said earlier.”  
“That was a mistake,”  
“I know, but it just got me thinking.”  
“About what?”  
“About… that. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to know if you knew anyone like that. And you do. Or have. So.”  
“Yeah.”  
God, they were awkward, Merlin thought painfully. He closed his eyes against the dark and let his mind stray. He had never really thought much about marriage, or even having a significant other in any way. And he had never really been distracted by or drawn to any girls, now that he really thought about it. He had female friends, of course. And he had felt lonesome, before. Such was human nature, to crave the company of other humans, and to long for that one particular human that may one day come into your life and change it right then and there.  
Of course, he thought, love was not the only thing that changed people’s lives. War changed lives. Family. Lost loved ones. Murder, too, he thought, with a small nod to himself.  
“Like how you tried to kill me the first time we met.”  
“What?”  
“What?” Damn. He’d said that aloud, just loud enough for Arthur to have heard him. Damn damn damn damn damn.  
“What about me trying to kill you?”  
“Nothing. Just that… you did. The first time we met.”  
“Yes, I know. What about it?”  
“Just thinking about how… well… everything changed after that.”  
“Now that’s not fair to yourself, Merlin. No, see, everything changed when you saved my life. That’s what got me stuck with you as my manservant.”  
“True.”  
Merlin’s eyes began to close as fatigue slowly found him.  
“Merlin?” Again, it was tentative.  
“Yes?”  
“Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight, Arthur.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually please lemme know what you think, so I can know where to take the story. I have the next few chapters written, but still. Also sorry for the wait, if anyone was actually waiting. Anywho, enjoy.

Gaius had been gone for a week. The weather was growing ever colder, and the boys were growing ever hungrier. Merlin took to spending less and less time out of the workroom, for the heartbeats of those he passed in the halls were beginning to go to his head – and to his stomach. They had tried ordinary food, but the only thing that had not made them throw up afterward was undercooked meat, but they could not very well ask the kitchens for that without drawing suspicion. More suspicion, that is. The knights and the king were becoming more and more restless and impatient with their inability to see Arthur, and now with Merlin out and about far less, they received next to nothing in the way of news on the prince’s condition.  
Arthur had been worse than Merlin from the beginning, but now he was degrading exponentially. He was always cold, layering Merlin’s extra clothes (the one extra shirt Merlin owned, that is) on top of his own, and walking around with a blanket draped over his shoulders. They had both lost a significant amount of weight in the past couple weeks, but Arthur’s drop was more significant. And he was weakening. He hardly left Merlin’s bed, both because there was nothing better to do, and because he found himself lightheaded and exhausted if he stood for much longer than a few minutes. They were both still sleeping very rarely, but in his quiet hours Arthur would go into a sort of comatose state, staring at the ceiling or wall in silence, his breathing low and his eyes glazed. Merlin was yet again combing through the pages of the books that mentioned upyrs in any way, searching for something they may have missed, when his bedroom door creaked open and Arthur stumbled out, buried in a blanket.  
“Merlin,” he mumbled, and his servant jumped up and walked over to him, putting his hands on his shoulders to help him move down the stairs. “Thank you,”  
“Don’t mention it.” The corners of the blanket were bunched in Arthur’s fists under his chin, pulling it taut across his back, keeping as much heat in as possible. Together they shuffled over to the fireplace and Merlin sat Arthur down on the side of Gaius’ bed. Arthur pulled his knees up to his chest and yanked the blanket so that it covered as much of him as possible as Merlin stoked the fire until its heat wafted over the prince. “How are you feeling?”  
“Disgusting.”  
“Yeah. Me, too.”  
“When will Gaius be back? Maybe he found a cure…”  
“I doubt it, Arthur. If he had, he would have rushed back.”  
“Maybe he is rushing back right now,” The prince’s eyes were half-closed, the lids fluttering every once in a while as he stared into the fire.  
“One of the books said something like this would happen, if an upyr didn’t feed.”  
“Something like what?” Arthur slurred.  
“Like a really bad fever.”  
“Will I die?” Arthur asked it void of emotion or concern.  
“No.”  
“Pity.”  
“Arthur, no,” Merlin sat on the bed beside Arthur. “We can get through this.”  
“What if we cannot? I cannot be a prince, let alone king, if I am also a monster.”  
Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
“What if we could figure out a way for you to be both?”  
“We can’t.”  
“What if we can? What if you can be king, and nobody has to know you’re not… normal?”  
Arthur pulled his gaze from the fire to look at Merlin through his heavily-lidded eyes.  
“First is the problem of not aging. My people are not stupid, they will notice when I look the exact same over the years. And I cannot rule as sickly as I am without feeding, and I sure as hell cannot feed. And Gaius said our own bodies would all but force us to feed sooner or later, so I cannot simply-“  
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Merlin interrupted. Arthur turned his gaze back to the fire, and after a moment of looking at his friend’s profile, Merlin did the same. They sat there in silence for hours, both of the slowly growing colder, and hungrier, and more and more ill.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments? Ideas? Suggestions? Criticisms?

Arthur awoke slowly, and the first thing he noticed was the cold, then the hunger, then the smell. It was as though the scent itself lifted Arthur from where he lay, like a physical rope or hook pulling him to his feet, for before he knew it, he was standing face to face with Merlin, who was looking at him with wide eyes.  
“Good morning?”  
“What’s that smell?”  
“Well, considering-“  
“What is that smell?” Arthur snapped.  
“Arthur-“  
Arthur grabbed the front of Merlin’s shirt and shoved him to the side, clearing the path, and bent over the table Merlin had been blocking. Merlin stumbled but caught himself, blinking in surprise as he watched the prince examine the table. There sat a wooden bowl full of a thick, red liquid. Arthur’s mouth fell ajar, and then he dipped his hands into the bowl and withdrew them cupped, filled with the red, and after barely a moment’s hesitation, he brought his hands and his lips together and drank deeply. Merlin kept his distance, watching, silent and still, as Arthur reached his hands back into the bowl and again to his lips, until this was not enough to satisfy him, and he picked up the bowl itself and brought that to his lips, and the liquid dripped from his fingers and his chin as he threw back his head and drained it as best he could before he had to pull back and draw breath. There he stood, head tipped back so far he took a step or two backwards, and he let the bowl clatter to the floor as he closed his eyes and relished in the euphoria, arms spread wide, and he licked from his lips as the deep, dark red trickled down along his skin, following the gentle curve of his adam’s apple, and it dripped from his jaw and from his fingers. His chest heaved in slow, deep breaths.  
Merlin realized he had taken a few steps back, overwhelmed and terrified.  
Arthur stumbled, and Merlin instinctively lurched forward with a shout of “Arthur!” and he caught the prince as he fell. Arthur’s head fell limply against Merlin’s shoulder, and the young warlock grunted as he dragged Arthur back over to Gaius’ bed and dropped him on to it.  
“Arthur?” Merlin took Arthur’s face in his hands and tilted it back, and to his relief, Arthur’s eyes fluttered open.  
“What in god’s name was that?” There was a renewed sense of life in his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted drink that good! Or food, or anything, for that matter!” Arthur sat up, and Merlin took a step back. “Merlin, what was that?”  
“Uh… sheep’s blood.”  
Arthur’s face fell.  
“What?”  
“I figured, you’d already fed, so this would not change anything, if feeding makes a difference to the cure or not! And you were so weak, and upyr crave human blood but other bloods will do, and we need-“ Arthur jumped up from the bed and rushed Merlin, whose sentence cut off with a cry of surprise as Arthur shoved Merlin backwards and bent him over the table, leaning in so close that their noses nearly touched. A small drop of blood from the corner of Arthur’s mouth dripped on to Merlin’s cheek.  
“Merlin what have you done?”  
“I-“  
“You might as well have poisoned me!” Arthur threw Merlin sideways, and his shoulder hit the ground hard, and when he looked back up Arthur stood over him, large and dark like an enemy. “You’ve made me a monster!”  
“No, I didn’t-“  
“I hadn’t fed!”  
“Gaius said-!”  
“Gaius doesn’t know, he said it himself!” Arthur advanced on Merlin and kicked him hard in the stomach so that he flipped on to his back, and before the younger could recover, he dropped to his knees and straddled Merlin’s middle, and he grabbed fistfuls of the front of his shirt and yanked him up. Merlin’s eyes were wide and his breath was quick with fear and uncertainty, and he put an arm behind him on the floor for balance and with the other he desperately gripped one of Arthur’s wrists.  
“Arthur, please! Stop!”  
“You’ve ruined me!” Arthur struck Merlin hard across the face, releasing him so that he fell to the ground again, and then punched him across the other way. Arthur was strong to begin with, but the infection seemed to have enhanced his strength further, so that Merlin’s vision was blurred and his head, spinning. And yet through the pain and confusion, anger bubbled up within him.  
“I ruined you?!” He demanded, and his hands leapt up to grab Arthur’s wrists. “You bit me! You turned me!”  
“I saved your life!”  
“This is being saved?” Merlin shoved Arthur off of him, and clambered to his feet. “This is life?” He shouted at Arthur, who stood with dark eyes. “You’ve destroyed everything!”  
“I saved your life!”  
“For yourself, not for me!”  
Arthur looked about to shout back, but stopped before words escaped. Still, his glare did not lessen, and the two stared each other down from under their eyebrows, anger and fear and hopelessness seething between them. Arthur looked absolutely murderous, with blood smeared across his chin and staining the collar of his (Merlin’s) shirt, and even without the blood Merlin looked equally dangerous. At long last, Merlin broke the silence with a deep inhale, and then he spoke with a low voice.  
“This is the infection. We cannot let ourselves lose control.”  
Arthur remained still for another moment, then began moving toward Merlin, who flinched. Arthur, however, walked right past Merlin to the bucket of water that stood by the table. He pulled off his shirts, one and then the other, and dipped one of them into the water before pressing it against his face. He held it there, silently, and Merlin watched his back flex as he inhaled slowly through the damp cloth, then exhaled. His hands dropped to grab the lip of the bucket, the cloth falling back into the water, and his back was arched, his weight uneven on his hips.  
“I’m sorry, Merlin.”  
“I know. It’s okay.”  
“No, it’s not. The infection is affecting me, yes – I can feel it – but I cannot use that as an excuse for my actions.” Arthur turned around to face Merlin his face and hands clean. “I’m sorry.”  
Merlin hesitated, unsure of how to answer.  
“Thank you,” he said after a moment, and Arthur seemed satisfied with that. The silence stretched just a moment too long, but before Merlin could break it with useless small-talk meant only for breaking silences that stretch on just a moment too long, Arthur cracked a small smile, looking at the floor in thought.  
“Remember that time you were really awkward,” he asked, and though it was quiet and almost to himself, Merlin knew the question was for him.  
“Uh, you’re going to have to be more specific,” Merlin said, smiling ever so slightly himself.  
“That time you thought I was going in for a hug?” Arthur looked back up at Merlin, who blushed at the mere memory.  
“Oh, uh, yeah. Um…”  
“Well, now seems as appropriate time as any for a hug, considering you just brought me back from the brink of death and then I attacked you.” Arthur began to step forward and raise his arms, but then stopped, arms still halfway up through the air. “Perhaps I should put a shirt on first.”  
“Perhaps, yeah.”  
“Right.” Arthur turned back around, only to find both shirts wet, one way or another. He turned back to Merlin. “Do you have any more shirts?”  
“Uh, no. Just the two. Do you, uh, want mine?” Merlin gestured to the shirt he was wearing.  
“I appreciate it, Merlin, but that would still leave the problem of one of us being shirtless.”  
“Right. Uh, you can borrow one of Gaius’ nightshirts. I just washed it the other day. It’s just in here,” Merlin moved toward a dresser and pulled out a white shirt. “It’ll be a bit big, but-“  
“It’s perfect.” Arthur took the clothing from him and pulled it over his head. “Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome. So-“  
Arthur cut him off by hugging him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in. Merlin hesitated, then reciprocated the hug. His arms were under Arthur’s, around his middle, and beneath the thin shirt and skin he could feel the prince’s muscles shifting slightly with his breathing. He must have been thinking about that a moment too long, for Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, and the two separated.  
“Right.” Arthur said.  
“Yeah.” Merlin added.  
“So,” Arthur looked sideways.  
“So,” Merlin repeated, looking the other way.  
Such intellectuals.  
“Well, bedtime, shall we?”  
“Are you tired?”  
“The blood – and I am just going to say this and then I don’t want to talk about it anymore right now – makes me feel a lot better. More human. I am not freezing, I am a bit tired, and I am not so feverish. So. Yes, I think I will see if I can get some sleep in. I’ll take your bed again, and you take Gaius’, so you can be next to the fire.”  
“Oh, thank you, but I’ll just take the floor again. I want Gaius to have his bed, if he comes back in the middle of the night.”  
“Alright. So. Off we go,” after another brief pause, Arthur turned and headed toward the short stairs to Merlin’s room, and once his back was to his friend, he winched at his own awkwardness, unaware that Merlin was doing the same thing. They reached Merlin’s bedroom and both went toward their respective sleeping places, and they settled in and drifted into sleep or a senseless coma-esque state in silence.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go

Merlin awoke gasping for breath. Every muscle in his body was tense, and pain radiated from his fingers and toes. He was freezing, yet he could not see his breath. This came from within. The infection. He pulled the blanket tighter around him and kicked his feet back and forth a little, but soon realized that this was doing nothing to help. The cold was excruciating. His breathing was ragged and labored. Fire. He needed the fire. Please still be smoldering. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, every movement letting more heat from his body. It felt as though he were freezing to death, and though the air was chilled, it was dramatically – and dangerously – amplified by the infection. He took small, uneven steps toward the door, hugging the blanket around him, and he struggled down the stairs into the workroom. He barely noticed that Gaius’ bed was still empty, for his head seemed to deflate when he saw the fireplace contained nothing but black ash.  
“No, no, no,” he whispered, tears beginning to well into his eyes. He was being driven mad by the cold, like a deep-rooted fever. He stumbled to the table and took up the matches, and began striking them against the rough paper, but his fingers were shaking so violently that he could not keep the match against the paper long enough to work, nor could he get the strength behind the strike. The match jumped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. “No, no,”  
“Merlin?”  
Merlin looked up toward his bedroom door.  
“Arthur…” his voice was barely audible.  
“Merlin, are you alright?” Arthur stepped down the stairs.  
“I’m so cold,” and with that Merlin’s legs gave out, and Arthur rushed forward and caught him, lifting him into the air and carrying him across his arms. For a moment, it reminded the prince of how he had carried Merlin from where he had been nearly killed by the ax...  
“Merlin, it’s okay,” Arthur looked into his friend’s exhausted and pained eyes. “We’ll put you back in your right bed. Let’s go.” And Arthur carried Merlin into the bedroom and put his servant in the bed he had been occupying not a minute before.  
“Arthur…”  
“Shh, it’s okay, just warm up,” he tucked the blankets in tight around Merlin. “Better?”  
“No…”  
Arthur looked around, then hurried back into the workroom and returned with the blanket Merlin had dropped, as well as those from Gaius’ bed. He draped these over his friend, too.  
“Give it a minute, you’ll warm up.”  
“What about-“  
“You’re not allowed to be worrying about anything right now, Merlin.”  
Merlin tried to protest, but his eyes fluttered and his face paled further. He rocked on the edge of unconsciousness. Not sleep, not rest, but utter loss of consciousness.  
“Merlin, hey, you’ll be okay. Can you hear me?” Arthur leaned over Merlin and cupped his face in his hands. Merlin barely responded. “Merlin. Stay with me. You’re okay. Just sleep.”  
“I can’t… Cold…”  
Arthur closed his eyes a moment, thinking. Merlin was burning up and looked deathly ill, worse than Arthur had before he had fed. Silently he made up his mind and opened his eyes.  
“Merlin, I am going to help you, but you are not to tell a soul. Ever. You hear me?” Merlin’s eyes fluttered again as his gaze drifted sideways, though Arthur was sure he could not see a thing. “Okay, I will take that as an agreement.” Arthur released Merlin’s face and lifted the blankets, causing his servant to flinch against the cold, but a moment later Merlin felt heat return renewed, and he melted into the warmth, and he drifted into heavy sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far so... ?

When he awoke, it took him a moment to get his bearings. The pale light of dawn lit the room from between the ill-fitting shutters on his window. He was in his room. In his bed. He remembered the pain of the cold from in the night… but it was gone, really. Of course he still felt very ill, but there was no way he was going to feel healthy, what with the infection. He took in a deep inhale, and sighed. He reached his fingers out from beneath the blanket and groped for a moment until he caught hold of the hem of it, and tugged it in closer around him, but as he did, the weight on top of him shifted in a very un-blanket-like way. He slid his eyes to look, but had to ever so cautiously move his head to see over the rim of the blanket. There was an arm there. Draped over him, over the blanket he was under. He turned his head more, trying not to move his body, and something warm and smooth poked his cheek. Arthur’s nose. Merlin froze. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide, trying to keep his breathing as still as possible. His prince was in his bed with him, actually holding him in his sleep. And considering the bed was insanely small, they were practically on top of each other. What… Arthur helping him earlier in the night came back to him; being carried back to the bedroom, being covered by all the blankets, then the moment of cold before the unusually pleasant warmth. It had been Arthur, getting under the blankets with him. To keep him warm. To save him from the pain. That was all. Normal thing to do. Well, a bit nicer than normal, I suppose, but not completely out of the realm of normal…  
Merlin shut his eyes, silently cursing himself for his panicked thoughts, as though Arthur might somehow be able to hear them.  
Now what?  
Merlin, tentatively, quietly, cleared his throat.  
Nothing.  
Again.  
Arthur stirred, but did not wake.  
What if he pretended to still be asleep, and let Arthur wake up and be the one that had to deal with this? But that could take a while… and as he anticipated his lack of ability to move in that scenario, the position he was grew wildly uncomfortable.  
“Arthur…. Arthur.”  
“Hmm?” Arthur shifted as his sleep lightened.  
“Rise and shine.”  
“I’m shining,” Arthur murmured, still barely awake.  
“Arthur.”  
Arthur’s eyes opened, then instantly crossed in confusion to look at where his nose was ever so lightly touching Merlin’s cheek. A moment of silence passed, then Arthur pulled himself away from Merlin just enough so that he fell off the side of the bed with a yelp, yanking all the blankets with him, and since Merlin was also wrapped up in the same blankets, he was dragged off the bed as well, and he landed heavily on top of the prince with a yelp of his own. Their noses were less than an inch from each other.  
“Merlin.”  
“Yes?”  
“Get off of me.”  
“Yes.” Merlin scrambled off of Arthur, and the both stood as they untangled themselves from the blankets. Arthur cleared his throat.  
“Better?”  
“What?”  
“Are you still cold, I mean.”  
“Oh. Uh, no. You know. Considering.”  
“Right.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Yeah.”  
They’d known each other for years and yet half the time, their conversations lacked the confidence and familiarity that even their first fateful encounter had had.  
“Arthur, I promise I will do whatever I can to make things right.”  
“You were not the one that messed them up, Merlin. That was me.”  
“No, all you did was save my life. You should have left me.”  
“Left you in a swarm of bandits with an ax in your back?”  
Merlin hung his head. “Yes. You’re the prince. I’m your servant. There’s nothing to it.”  
“Merlin, come off it. You’re my best friend.”  
“Merlin?” The voice had come from neither of them. From the workroom.  
“Gaius!” Merlin jumped, and was in the workroom before Arthur had yet moved. “Gaius, you’re back! Did you find a cure?”  
“Well, it is good to see you, too!” Gaius snapped, though Merlin knew he was not mad. Arthur came running down behind Merlin.  
“Did you find a cure?”  
“And hello to you, as well, my lord! Let me sit down, please.” He sat. “And first, you tell me what I have missed.”  
The boys glanced at each other. Gaius saw this, and increased the forward tilt of his head so that he glared up at the through his eyebrows menacingly.  
“I fed.” Arthur said it quickly, without taking his eyes off of Merlin.  
“You what?” Gaius snapped, and the prince looked at him.  
“Not that it makes a difference. I was so ill… like how Merlin is now, and it helped…”  
“Alright.” Gaius looked down. His single word had a sense of finality within it, but the boys were not through.  
“Alright?” Merlin asked, stepping toward him.  
“Yes, alright.”  
“So did you find a cure for which feeding makes no difference?” Arthur asked, voice rising ever so slightly in pinched excitement.  
“No one for which feeding makes no difference.” Gaius said it to the floor, not wanting to see the way the boys hesitated, and then seemed to deflate.  
“What? Gaius, what did you find?”  
“I suppose I had better show you. Better than trying to explain it myself.” He pulled an ancient book from his robes. The book was small, no larger than Gaius’ hand, and bound in pale, cracking leather. He slowly untied it, then lay it on the table and ever so carefully found the page he was looking for. The boys were practically on their toes trying to see around him. “Just remember,” Gaius said to them, without turning away from the book, “whatever has been done cannot be undone. And whatever must be done for the kingdom, must be done.”  
“For the kingdom?” Arthur asked, nervousness in his voice.  
“Yes, for the kingdom. I am sorry.” And with them he turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the room, closing the door swiftly behind him, and Merlin and Arthur looked at each other as they listened to his receding footsteps.  
“I sort of don’t want to look now,” Merlin muttered.  
“Neither do I… but we must.”  
“I was telling the truth earlier, you know. Whatever it takes.”  
So together they approached the small book and bent over the table and read.  
And as they did, their faces hardened and their eyes strained not to look at each other, but when they reached the end of the page, they both gave in, and they looked into each other’s eyes with a new level of desperation.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh?

“Whatever it takes.”  
“Don’t you dare.”  
“Arthur-“  
“No.”  
Arthur was standing by the table, and Merlin was trying to memorize everything about him. His golden hair, and the way it slightly frazzled from not having been washed in a while. His loosely-fitting red shirt, and the way it slipped over his hand just a little as he defiantly pointed to the floor. The way his belt sat on his hips. The intensity in his eyes. For in this moment, he was risking everything to save Merlin.  
Merlin had backed a few feet from the table after having read the page of the book a few times over, so he was with his back nearly against the wall. Arthur was trying to memorize everything about him. His blue shirt that may as well have grown to become a part of him, the boy wore it so much. His ruffled black hair above his pale, thin face, jaw set with determination. The gentle acceptance in his eyes. For in this moment, he was offering everything to save Arthur.

“You heard what Gaius said.”  
“I don’t care.”  
“Whatever must be done for the kingdom.”  
“Merlin, I don’t care. We’ll find another way.”  
“Really? Weeks of looking, and we are going to ignore the one thing we have found? Arthur, the book even says this is the only way!”  
“It can’t be!”  
Merlin took a step toward the table, to get the book, but Arthur stepped in front of him, blocking his path.  
“Arthur-“  
“No.”  
“It’s not up to you!”  
“It certainly is, I’m the prince!”  
“And I’m just a serving boy!”  
“Which means you will listen to me, and do as I say!”  
“It means I am expendable!”  
Arthur shook his head slowly.  
“Don’t you say that.”  
“Arthur, for your kingdom. For your people.”  
“No.”  
“For god’s sake, be rational!”  
“I cannot lose you, Merlin!”  
“Well, it looks like you’re going to, anyway.” Merlin’s voice was hardly his own as he said this, low and authoritative.  
They glared at each other, both unable to think of anything to say to convince the other of the utter absurdity of their plan. Arthur’s body twitched, as if he was fighting himself on whether to move toward Merlin or not, and for a moment of madness Merlin thought the prince was going to come at him and kiss him.  
Don’t be stupid, Merlin.  
And then Arthur did move, and Merlin’s heart skipped a beat, but even before his heartbeat got back on track, Arthur was storming away from him, up the stairs to the bedroom, and the door slammed behind him, leaving Merlin alone in the workshop.  
“Well now where am I supposed to brood?!” Merlin shouted after him, at a loss for anything better to say.  
And so he was alone. He stood there for a moment, mind swimming, before he walked back up to the table and sat down heavily. He pulled the small book towards him and reread the page.

‘The Upyr. Among the most unnatural of creatures, these beings are either born or infected by the bite of others, and soon find themselves unable to contain their hunger for blood, specifically that of humans. They will lose their humanity one way or another, either after they feed from a human, or if they do not feed, forcing their bodies into action despite the opinion of their minds. The upyr do not age. You may kill an upyr with a sword dipped in the blood of a deceased member of its own kind, or by draining it completely of blood. Hence, upyr are very rarely killed. Once an upyr has fed – at which time it leaves behind the titel of half-upyr – these tactics are made invalid, and many believe an upyr that has fed cannot in fact be killed at all. However, in my research and experimentation, I have proven this to not be so. I have only attempted this once, but it was successful: to kill an upyr that has fed, they themselves must drink from the veins of an upyr that has not yet fed, until that half-upyr is dead, thus ridding the world of two of the vile creatures. My only further word to you, dear hunter, is to wish you the best of luck, for the chances of finding two upyr willing to die are next to none. Even one upyr seeking death – for the half-upyr need not be a willing participant, if you can find a half-upyr at all – I daresay will not exist.’

Merlin turned through the entire book, searching for any other mention of upyr or half-upyr or vampires, and when he found nothing, he started from the beginning again, this time looking for anything to do with blood, then infections, then biting, and still found nothing. The page Gaius had shown them was the only page in the book that could help them.  
The half-upyr need not be a willing participant. He was. Somehow… no… somehow, could the upyr doing the feeding not be privy to the plan? Alas, even as he thought this Merlin knew it was impossible. He could sense almost exactly where Arthur was even now – lying face-down on Merlin’s bed – and he could also sense the nearest humans from outside of their corridor, and he could feel the difference between them. Arthur would know it was Merlin’s blood. Besides, the book said ‘must drink from the veins,’ and Merlin did not know if that meant it would only work if directly from flesh to teeth and passing through a bowl first would ruin it. And he dared not mess with this. They had one chance. Arthur did not have long before he would really need human blood, by the sound of it.  
They had no choice. Arthur would have to drink from Merlin’s veins, drain him of blood. For the prince. For the kingdom. For the people. For his friend.

Merlin slammed the book shut defiantly and stood up, knocking his chair back. This was it. He was going to convince Arthur that this was the only way. He turned toward the stairs, but before he stepped toward it, movement in the very corner of his vision stalled him. He looked up, and this time, his heart truly did skip a beat. A man stood up on the balcony, in front of the book case, cloaked in dark, rich red from hood to boot. Their eyes met, and Merlin opened his mouth to call out to Arthur, but as he took in air to do so, a second figure came up behind him and clamped a damp cloth to his mouth and nose, and pulled him in close, holding him fast, so that his kicking and squirming and racing heart did nothing, and with each labored breath his mind grew ever fuzzier, until he went limp, and the world faded into darkness as he sank into the arms of his attacker.


	16. Chapter 16

“Morning, love.”  
Merlin’s head slowly lifted, and his eyes opened with great effort. He was standing… no, his feet were barely touching the ground… his wrists were tied above his head. That woke him up. He was in a small room, probably underground, surrounded by roughly a half-dozen people. He yanked against his bonds, but they were incredibly tight. His wrists were already sore, meaning he had been out for some time. The drug was still in his system, so nothing would focus completely. He could not make out their faces, and when he tried, he nearly passed out again.  
“What do you want?” He slurred.  
“I’d not try to talk just yet, if I were you.”  
“Why can’t we just tie him to a chair?”  
“Those are easier to get out of.”  
“Not if you do it right.”  
“He’s already up, just leave it be.”  
“What’s going on?” The voices reached Merlin as though they were far away, even though he could see their speakers, more or less. One moved in closer to him, so that their face swam into focus.  
“Imagine our surprise,” he mused. “Just imagine. We were tailing the court physician of Camelot, about a day or so behind him and gaining, cuz we knew he’d found the book. See, we just wanted the book. Lots of good knowledge to know, in here.” He pulled the small leather book from the inside of his coat and grinned, then slipped it back in. “So imagine when we caught up to him and when we went in to take the book, the old man started talking in his sleep. Imagine our surprise when we learned that the prince himself had made himself a half-upyr! His little slave boy. Didn’t matter much to us, until we read the book. So, imagine again, imagine when we read the book and learned that a half-upyr could kill an upyr!”  
“What…” the man’s words were hardly making sense, even as the drug thinned.

“So we slipped the book back into his bag, as though we'd never been there. And we kept tailing him. We slipped into Camelot and got to your little living quarters just in time to see you two read the book. See, we thought he’d turned you so that he could use you to kill himself. We couldn’t have that, see. The prince of Camelot needs a more public demise than being found dead. Then we saw that his intention was just to save you, and he has no will to kill you.” The man leaned in closer, so that Merlin pulled his head back to avoid the man’s breath as his voice dropped to a thick whisper. “You must be special. What can you do, slave, that makes you so, so desirable?” The question sent shivers up and down Merlin’s spine, and he yanked against his ropes again in vain. Merlin sneered, hatred boiling within him. He forced himself to look into the man’s eyes, and then he spat into his face. The man jerked backwards, wiping the spit from his face. He grinned menacingly, then all the sudden his smile dropped and he lunged at Merlin, who yelled in fear and pain as the man grabbed a fistful of the back of Merlin’s hair and yanked his head back. Merlin winched and struggled, but the man held him firmly, his large face just above Merlin’s. “And the way you talk to each other, the way you offered yourself up, the way you defend him now… you must like the things he does to you, boy.” Merlin tried to shrink back into himself, which earned him a twist and yank from the man’s hand in his hair before he was roughly released. He fell limp before he could get his feet back under him.

“So what’s your big plan, then?” Merlin asked, voice hoarse. “Expose the prince as a vampire, a creature of magic, which his father so aggressively condemns? Watch his public demise?”  
“Right about that, yeah.”  
“And you don’t think him being infected without his consent will just gather sympathy for him?”  
“Not once he starts drinking people. Not once he starts leaving a trail of bodies behind him, and he attacks his own people. He’ll be forced to flee Camelot. And then where will he go? He’ll turn into a rogue, a vagabond, a murderer hiding in the woods and snatching village children at night. And he’ll be hunted. But see, they won’t know how to kill him. They’ll try burning him at the stake, and he’ll feel every moment of it, but he won’t die. Hanging. Stabbing. Disemboweling him. And he’ll scream and he’ll suffer but he won’t die.”

“Gaius knows! And he would never let that happen!”  
“And where do you think he is right now?” The man asked menacingly. Merlin’s heart grew heavy.  
“No…” he breathed. No. Not Gaius.  
“Oh, he’s alive.” Merlin looked up sharply, unable to contain his relief. “We thought about killing him, but then we thought, no, it’ll be much more fun if we release him after Arthur has been hiding and tortured and imprisoned and hiding and tortured again for a few years. Then the old man will be able to kill the boy at last, and when the people see their prince, looking like himself again in death, oh how they’ll weep. Guilt and anger and despair and betrayal and all.”

“Why?!” Merlin’s anger was bubbling over. “What do you have against the prince and his people?”  
“You mean aside from he and his father hunting down and killing everyone even marginally connected to magic? Unless it’s to their own benefit, of course, like with that old physician.”  
“Arthur did not make the laws.”  
“Doesn’t matter. What do you think will happen once the prince turns into a beast? The kingdom will fall apart. Camelot will fall. And it will at last be off the map.”  
“So why am I here? You heard Arthur. He won’t do it. He won’t kill me to be cured.”  
“Even you know that’s not true.” The man stepped back then, and watched Merlin closely as he backed away, and then he turned and left the room. The others began to leave behind him.

“And the rest of you?” Merlin demanded, straining against the knots around his wrists. “This is all to take down Camelot with as much gore and loss as possible? And you’re okay with that?!”  
“Not just that, mate.” The one who spoke was the only one that did not leave the room, and the door closed behind the others, leaving Merlin alone with the woman. “You see, we can’t let you live. I’m sure you understand.”  
“What-“  
“As long as Arthur has access to a half-upyr, he’s got a chance of curing himself.”  
“He said he wouldn’t!”  
She ignored him as she walked over to a table pushed up against the wall.  
“I’m actually impressed, you know. Most of those infected give in to feeding within a matter of hours. Days, if they’re strong. No wonder the prince is so fond of you. I’ve always enjoyed ones with a bit of dignity, as well.”  
“Stop, it’s not like that! I’m his servant.”  
“Whatever you say, boy.” She turned, and in her hand was a knife, smooth and long and sharp.  
“So, what, just kill me and leave me here and watch Camelot burn?” Merlin’s voice had risen in pitch as his panic mounted. He thought desperately of something to say to stall her as she approached him, but nothing came to mind. Damn. Fine. He muttered a spell under his breath, and his eyes lit up, and the knife flew from her hands and imbedded itself into the wall. She gasped.  
“You’re a sorcerer?” She demanded, eyes widening. Merlin said nothing, eyes hard. “Then why do you defend a kingdom that detests your kind?!”  
“Because I believe Arthur will be a better king than his father.”  
“Really? Because as far as I have heard, he helps your father round up sorcerers. You must be good, boy. Being so, well, intimate with the prince, and able to keep that a secret?”  
“We’re not-“  
“For some reason, that doesn’t strike me as the most important part of this conversation. What it all boils down to is you protecting the enemy, and sooner or later you would have convinced him to save himself by sacrificing you. And that would have foiled our entire plan.”  
“Yeah, well,” Merlin backed up his voice with false courage. “Try getting close enough to kill a sorcerer.” His courage faltered, however, when she smiled at him with pity.  
“You think you’re the only sorcerer here?” She looked over her shoulder and shouted “Abigail! He’s one of yours.”  
“You’ve got a sorcerer with you?”  
“My dear slave, who do you think we are? We are but a small gang of those whose lives your king has ruined. We are upyr, sorcerers, Druids, and more.”  
The door opened, and a women draped in a full-length dark blue cloak walked in. She cracked a half smile.  
“I do love hybrids,” she purred. Her eyes widened as she murmured a spell, and before Merlin could get one out of his own mouth, he felt a hot, searing pain in his abdomen, and he cried out and threw his head back and screamed. The sorceress was inflicting upon him the pain of twisting a knife into his belly, without the physical blade. As he screamed the other woman took something off of the table and hurried up to him, and he hardly noticed her cuffing him with cold metal chains. His screaming turned into crying and panting as she withdrew, and the pain subsided.  
“What are you doing… if you want me dead, just kill me!”  
“All in good time. You see, you need to die. Arthur cannot have any chance at a cure. But before you die, you will help us out with something.”  
“Are you mad?”  
“Actually I feel completely calm. I am in my element!”  
Merlin was speechless. So, they needed information. To them, this was a war. And war is war. But she was enjoying this so, so much.  
“You know our plan. No bother. Not like you’ll get the chance to tell anyone else. So, you know what we need to know.”  
“What? No I don’t! And even if I did-“  
She raised a hand toward him and flicked her wrist, and the stabbing pain in his abdomen returned, ripping through him, and he screamed and writhed until her arm dropped and she glared at him as he recovered his breathing.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve got all the time in the world, but my patience was thin from the beginning. I’ll dumb this down for you, if that’s what you need, boy. We are going to ruin Arthur, and thus Camelot. And we need to know everything there is no know about Arthur. How many hours does he sleep each night? What is his favorite attack when sparring with the knights? Which serving girls draw his eye? How exactly does he use you after the candles have been blown out? Everything.”  
“Just stop it-“ his sentence was cut off by his own throat-ripping scream. “STOP IT!” He shrieked, and she did. “Stop, just stop, please, I’m never going to tell you anything to do with Arthur, you’re-“ he stopped as she flinched and whipped around, as though she had heard something strange on the other side of the door. She cocked her head, listening. “What is it?”  
“Quiet.” She turned to the other woman and nodded, and she left, closing the door behind her. And Merlin took that moment to utter a spell as quick as he could, glaring hard at the sorceress, and his eyes lit up, but nothing happened. The woman looked at him smugly. His eyebrows etched together in confusion. He tried again, louder this time. Nothing.  
“What is wrong with me?”  
“Those extra chains you’ve got around your wrists? Prevent you from using magic.”  
He looked up. Carved into each rung on the chains were miniscule markings and designs and sigils that he could barely make out. He yanked at them, then tried a series of spells that should have gotten rid of them. Nothing.  
“Believe me now?” The woman asked.  
“It’s pointless. You’ll get nothing from me.”  
“We shall see.”

For half an hour, the only words to leave his mouth were in the form of screaming and crying, namely him repeating his promise to never say a word. He gave up nothing about Arthur, despite the increasingly creative manners of torture she inflicted upon him.  
He was on the hazy brink of unconsciousness when he registered her leaving the room and closing the door behind her. He slipped deeper into darkness, and was vaguely aware of the door creaking open again, and then he dropped completely into the black.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we come to an end.  
> Please, please let me know what you think. Anything. Whatever it may be. I want to hear it.  
> Thank you.

“Oh, no,” the words fell from Arthur’s mouth like smoky breath on a cold night; light and quiet and nearly nonexistent.

Hours before, he had stepped into Gaius’ workroom to talk to Merlin again. They had not necessarily been thinking clearly, earlier. What they were proposing would effectively kill both of them… So he went to strike up the conversation again, only to find him and the book missing, and the fading smell of fear in the air. For the first time thankful for the enhancement to his senses that the infection gave, he followed the trail, being very careful to avoid being seen or recognized by anyone within Camelot. He was aided by his knowledge of almost every way around the castle, and by the fact that he was wearing Merlin’s clothes, and of course that he had lost a considerable amount of weight since he had last been out and about in the citadel or town.  
The further along the trail he got, the clearer it became, and he soon realized he was following more than one upyr, as well as at least one human. They had entered a cave surprisingly close to the borders of the town, and Arthur shrank into a corner to assess his situation. Merlin was in a room just down the hall from where he was, but he was not alone. As he sat, waiting for Merlin’s captors to leave him, he felt his energy waning and his fever returning. It had been adrenaline alone, that had gotten him this far. But when his chance came and he slipped into the room and saw Merlin, all fatigue left him instantly.

Merlin was strung to the rafters by his wrists with both rope and chain. His head lung limp over his chest, with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and one of his temples, which was already swelling with a bruise. Most of his shirt had been ripped open, and there were leaking gashes across his chest and arms.  
“Merlin!” Arthur kept his voice low, but rushed at Merlin with panic in his heart. He gently took Merlin’s face into his hands. “Merlin, wake up, Merlin!” Merlin’s eyelids fluttered, but he did not regain consciousness.  
Behind Arthur, the hallway beyond the door creaked under footfalls. He had moments.  
“I am not going to leave you, Merlin. We’re going home. Hang in there.” He silently cursed his unintentional and gruesome pun, and then shrank into the shadowed corner of the room just as the door swung open. The woman returned with a bucket in hand.  
“Round two, shall we?” She jerked the bucket toward Merlin, dousing him in freezing water, and he awoke, gasping. When he regained his breath enough to speak, he repeated the sentence he had been giving her:  
“You’ll get nothing from me.”  
“I’m starting to accept that. And you know what that means? It makes you expendable. To us, and to Camelot. Even if your prince enjoyed you, we’re not expecting a search-and-rescue. After all, you are just a slave.”  
“Actually, he’s a friend.”  
The woman whipped around, and Merlin lifted his head in disbelief, but it was true. Arthur stepped out of the shadows of the corner and drew his sword.  
“Arthur!”  
“My oh my.” She glanced back at Merlin. “You must know one hell of a trick or two.”  
“Arthur, run, she’s a sor-“ but before he could finish his warning, the woman uttered a spell, and Arthur’s sword flew from his hand and into hers. He found himself standing there completely unarmed. “Arthur, run!”  
“I am not leaving you, Merlin.” He looked around him quickly, then lunged at the little table that was there and snatched up a dagger, readying himself to fight with it. The woman brandished his sword, and smirked.  
“I am more than magic, you know.”  
Arthur moved first, and Merlin winced as their blades clashed dangerously close to Arthur’s hand, but the prince was unfazed. And they dueled. It soon became clear that Arthur was in fact the more skilled swordsman, but the tables turned when the woman muttered a spell under her breath and Arthur stumbled in a lunge and received a deep slice to his shoulder.  
“That’s cheating!” He shouted, backing away and clutching his bleeding arm.  
“Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t realize this was a graded tournament.”  
“The rules of engagement-“  
“-do not apply. Now you know by now that this sword will not kill you. Only put you in extreme pain. So just stop.”  
“You can’t kill me. I can kill you. Sounds like a very good reason for me to keep fighting.”  
She spat out another spell, and Arthur’s dagger jumped from his hand and skidded toward Merlin’s feet. Arthur looked around, but she was now between him and the table.

“That was disappointingly easy,” she drawled. She flicked her wrist once more, and a chair that had been pushed up against the far wall shot forward and hit Arthur in the back of the knees, so that he collapsed into it, and was instantly stuck. He struggled and flexed, but the magic that was binding him to the old wood was stronger than he. The woman looked back at Merlin was a grin. “So harming you will do nothing. What if we harm you friend?”  
“No, don’t!” Merlin strained against his ties, eyes wide, pleading. “Don’t you touch him!”  
“Merlin, it’s okay.” Arthur said, jaw set, eyes trained on the sorceress. “Don’t worry about me.”  
“That’s my job, to worry about you!” Merlin yelled back.  
“It’s okay.” Arthur repeated, but even in his hardened face Merlin could see fear. The woman advanced on the prince, and suddenly the room echoed with a loud crack and Arthur’s deep grunt as she punched him hard across the face. She did not give him a moment to recover before she threw a second fist that sent his head snapping in the other direction. Again and again she punched him, until she stepped back, and Arthur slowly lifted his face, bloody and bruised, to look right past her to Merlin.  
“It’s okay.”  
“Arthur, no-“ once again his own scream cut him off as the woman burned pain into his stomach.  
“Stop it!” Arthur cried. “You’ve done enough, he won’t give in! What are you even trying to get out of him!? Haven’t you done the damage already?!”  
“I’m actually just getting started,” the woman smirked, and as she released Merlin, she swung perhaps her hardest punch yet, and Arthur’s weight was thrown so far to the side that the chain tipped and hit the ground hard on its side. The woman drew back her leg to kick him in the stomach, and Arthur winced, anticipating the pain that he could do nothing about, but then she froze, for suddenly there was a crack that echoed throughout the room, and the woman and prince both jumped and look toward Merlin, who was now standing, rubbing his wrists, free of his bonds. The engraved chains lay in pieces on the floor.

“Impossible…” the woman muttered.  
“You never asked my name, you know.” Merlin was glaring at the sorceress, behind whom Arthur was squirming out of the chair, her magic lifted in her distraction, but on his face was frozen a look of petrified confusion. “If you had, you might have realized that those chains would not hold me for long.” He tried not to glance at Arthur, and dared not think of what this move would mean for him. For them.  
“Who are you?” The sorceress asked, stunned.  
“I am Emrys.”  
The name meant nothing to Arthur, but the woman nearly staggered backwards in disbelief.  
“Emrys…” she repeated.  
“Let Arthur and I go.”  
“I cannot do that.”  
“Please. Just let us go.”  
“No.”  
“Fine.”

And in a flurry, Merlin muttered a spell that summoned the sword from her side into his hand, at which Arthur let out an audible gasp of shock, and Merlin swung, but she froze the sword with magic before it hit her. Merlin yanked it back and jumped out of the way of a blast of magic, and they battled, and soon Merlin cast aside the sword and they were locked in a struggle that Arthur could barely comprehend as he backed up against the wall. The distance between the sorcerers lessened as their attacks became more concentrated, and Merlin realized too late that they were in actual striking distance of each other. Her foot came down hard on his knee, breaking the bone as his leg buckled backwards, and he collapsed and screamed in pain.  
“Merlin!”  
The woman turned quickly and met Arthur, and they began sparring with fists and kicks, until she grabbed the back of his head and drove her knee into his stomach, then flung him against the wall, his head hitting the stone with a sickening crack. Merlin hit her with a magic blast and she hit the far wall with an equally loud crack, and she crumpled as Arthur did.  
“Arthur!” Merlin hopped to his side on his good leg and dropped to his ground. Blood ran from the prince’s hair, but his eyes opened as Merlin shook his shoulder gently. “Oh thank god you’re alright,”  
“Where is she?”  
“She’s-“  
“Merlin, behind you!”  
Merlin stood and turned around in a blink, but when he found himself face to face with the sorceress, he stopped. Arthur watched from below in horror as he realized what was happening before even Merlin. The woman leaned in close to Merlin, and as she did, the blade she had stabbed into his abdomen pierced the skin of his back, and its blood-coated tip pushed through his clothing for Arthur to see.  
“Expendable,” the woman whispered darkly into his ear, and then she released him and stumbled backwards, clutching her bleeding head in her hands. “Coated in the blood of a dead upyr, that was,” she hissed maliciously.

Merlin staggered, the blade still in him, the tip dripping blood, and then he fell. Arthur lunged forward and caught him in his arms, laying him across his lap.  
“Merlin, no, no, I can’t lose you. Not again. Merlin, come on, stay with me”  
Merlin’s eyes slowly drifted to meet Arthur’s.  
“The blood…”  
“It doesn’t matter-“  
“Arthur, I’m sorry”  
“What?”  
“For not telling you.”  
“About your magic?” He seemed at a loss for what to say about that. “Merlin, it… you’re still Merlin. You’re… it’s okay. It’s okay.”  
“Arthur what are you going to do”  
“I don’t know, it doesn’t matter, it’s okay”  
“They’re going to turn your people against you, they’re going to run you out of Camelot. Arthur, they’ll try to kill you, once they know. But they won’t be able to. Arthur…” Merlin’s breath was becoming shallower and shallower. “Arthur, they’ll torture you, I can’t let that happen…”  
“You mean how I just let you be tortured? They took you to get to me…” Arthur’s voice trailed off as his eyes drifted down to where the dagger protruded from Merlin’s stomach, and the blood that was leaking from him. He looked back up to Merlin’s face, his fading eyes. Merlin coughed weakly, expelling blood from his mouth.

“You’re dying,” Arthur breathed in disbelief. “Can’t you… heal yourself or something?”  
“Not that wound,” the woman cut in. They had almost forgotten she was there, as she sat against the far wall and nursed her magically-magnified headache. Merlin had cast a spell on her to knock her out, but she was stronger than he assumed, so it was only now that she fell unconscious.  
“Arthur… you have to decide…”  
“Decide what?”  
Merlin’s voice was weak.  
“Drink the blood of a half-upyr…”  
Arthur’s eyes looked into Merlin’s in confusion, then they shifted, and Merlin could see his mouth fall ever so slightly ajar as he realized what Merlin meant.  
“If I… I can’t. You…”  
“You cannot save me.”  
“My people.”  
“Do you really think you can help them like this?”

Arthur’s eyes welled with tears as the gravity of the situation fell fully on to him.  
He dared not even put the truth into a full sentence in his mind. It sounded bizarre, and simultaneously disgusting and the most natural thing that could possibly be… Merlin’s blood… Merlin was a half-upyr, and Arthur, to die, to rid his kingdom of a monstrous prince… he needed to drink the blood of a half-upyr as they passed from life into death.  
“Arthur,” Merlin struggled to even breathe. “You decide. But whichever you choose… just… hold me. Please.”  
“I would never leave you.” There was silence for a moment. “I would rather leave my people of my own accord, than have them suffer to see their prince fall so hard. I will not allow my kingdom to fail because of me.” He held Merlin in his lap, his arms wrapped around him, his hands cradling his head. They looked into each other’s eyes. “I’ve decided.”

The prince leaned forward, brushing a tear from Merlin’s eye with his thumb, and opened his mouth just enough to exhale, and Merlin’s eyes closed as Arthur pressed their lips together. Merlin’s blood mixed into Arthur’s mouth, and he closed his own eyes as he deepened their kiss, and as he did, he felt the rest of Merlin’s life leave him, and felt the blood in his mouth sucking from him his own life.

They were found that way, wrapped up in each other, both of their heads limp, Merlin’s in Arthur’s lap, and Arthur’s draped over Merlin’s shoulder.

Gaius was released, so that he could tell this horror story to the kingdom. Or not. Whichever he preferred. Either way, the kingdom was missing two very important young men. And for this, they ached.


End file.
